


how time flies

by weatheredlaw



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Time, Making Out, Reference to Near Death Experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I told you before, that you are one of the most fascinating women I've ever worked with." Stephen smiles and leans closer. "I have to make a correction."</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Yes. I think--" And now his lips are a breath away from hers and Carol can feel something twisting and mounting in her stomach. "--that you just might be the most fascinating woman I have ever met."</p>
            </blockquote>





	how time flies

**Author's Note:**

> this ship is so self-indulgent and i don't care

"You are one of the _most_ fascinating women I have ever had the pleasure to work with," he says. Carol feels a flush crawl its way to her _heels_ and hides her face behind the largest mug _she_ has ever had the misfortune of drinking out of. Wong had handed it to her with a flourish when she'd awoken that morning, feeling a little worse for wear, on one of Stephen's many couches. 

"That's, uh. Very nice of you. To say."

"I was so _impressed_ yesterday and, quite honestly, nothing _against_ you, Carol--" And now he smiles, and she realizes he looks so _odd_ in civilian wear, so pedestrian and honest -- "But I was certain you could never surprise me again. I had assumed that you'd done all you could, and you were the very best at it."

"I...that's a compliment, right?"

"Of course it is, of course." He waves his hand and starts bustling around the kitchen, unearthing a mango from God knows where and presenting it for her, seconds later, peeled and cut. "Breakfast?"

"Uh. Sure." She takes the plate and eats half of it while Stephen gestures wildly with one piece in his hand.

"You were absolutely beautiful, I must say. I mean--" And now it's _his_ turn to flush and _holy God_ does Carol love to watch all-powerful men lose their proverbial shit over something as silly as telling a woman he thinks she's beautiful. "You're beautiful all the time."

_And we're back to the blushing again. Excellent job, Danvers._

"Stephen--"

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to smother you so early in the morning. I'll retire to my study, if you need--"

"No." She reaches out and grabs his shoulder as he moves past her. "No, you should stay."

He smiles.

"Alright. I'll stay." 

 

 

 

She isn't sure how it really starts, mostly because after she sets down her gargantuan mug of tea during that first morning over, they lose track of one another for a few months. But she finds herself spending an evening in one of his libraries, a dozen books spread at her feet while he's floating, upside down, in a corner, a long manuscript unrolled across the carpet.

"Should I even _ask_ why you're... _sitting_ , I guess, like that?"

He looks up. Or...down. "Like what?"

"Like _that._ "

"I'm letting the blood flow to my brain, this text is written in a language I haven't come into contact with in quite some time, and I'm trying to become reacquainted with it." Carol rolls her eyes, jumping when he suddenly appears next to her. "Sorry."

" _Jesus_."

"What have you found?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing, this entire _thing_ was just...just..." _An excuse to spend time with you._

"An excuse..." Stephen looks at her.

"I didn't--"

"No, no, it's quite alright. You have very loud thoughts, it was my fault for listening. You may as well have passed me a _note_ , I mean, your intentions are...they’re incredibly clear. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable--"

"You saved my life. You've saved all of us, a hundred thousand times. But you saved me, specifically, and I can't let it go. I can't forget it."

"Carol--"

"I don't want to go through this...this _whatever_ without you knowing that I understand what it means. That we couldn't even be here without you--"

"You are more than capable of keeping yourself alive."

She laughs. "You'd think that. But I seem to have a tendency to get myself into no-win situations."

"Nonsense. There's always an answer."

"Is there?" Carol plucks idly at the hem of her dress, staring at the carpet. "Because there's this...this _thing_ that I keep thinking about. A question, I guess." He nods. "About what I should do with you. When I'm around you. Because sometimes I want to...I want..." _I want. And that's all._ She realizes then that there isn't much after that. Carol _wants_ and she's hungry for it. For something. Her eyes close when he presses a hand to her cheek. 

"I told you before, that you are _one_ of the most fascinating women I've ever worked with." Stephen smiles and leans closer. "I have to make a correction."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I think--" And now his lips are a breath away from hers and Carol can feel something twisting and mounting in her stomach. "--that you just might be _the_ most fascinating woman I have ever met."

"Liar."

"Well. The heart wants, I suppose."

"Yes." She smiles and kisses him, her tone teasing. "I suppose it does."

 

 

 

It takes them at least a month after that first kiss to get anywhere else. Hazard of the trade, Carol says, and Stephen woefully agrees. 

"We can't all magically undress ourselves," he murmurs against the back of her neck.

"Eight-hundred percent sure you totally and completely can."

"Yes, well, there's something to _appreciate_ about undressing a lover."

"You did not just call me your _lover._ "

Stephen huffs. "I most certainly did."

"You are without a doubt--" She turns to face him. "--the most ridiculous man who has ever tried to undress me."

"Am I _really?_ "

"No." She grins. "Once I had a thing with Johnny Storm."

"Then I'll have to try _twice_ as hard, won't I?"

"Hardly," she murmurs, and finally gives in and lets her clothes disappear, pressing herself against him as he undresses. "I've been thinking about this." He hums and nods, lifting her face by her chin and kissing her. It feels like it goes on for hours, and when she pulls back, she can feel how hard he is against her hip and she wraps her hand around him, pleased that he's still _human_ , even after all the things she's seen. "Stephen--"

He urges her back, letting her settle on the bed and stretch herself out. "I'll take care of you. You know I will."

"Yeah, yeah I do, I just--"

"Trust me, Carol--"

"If you end that sentence with _I'm a doctor_ so help me God I'll -- _holy shit._ " He buries his mouth between her legs, pressing in his tongue and pulling one of her legs over his shoulder. Carol's words fade off into an undignified whine, but she doesn't care. No one's touched in her ages, and not because she hasn't wanted it. The universe is out to make her celibate, which is a great choice for people who would like to _be_ celibate, and she respects and admires and understands that.

But Carol would like to get laid. 

And a fancy-pants, sexy magician would like to do the job for her. So the noises she makes are completely fucking inconsequential.

In fact, they only seem to urge him on. Stephen slides two fingers inside her, working them gently as he sucks at her clit. He massages her hip with his free hand and doesn't say a word about the way she tugs pathetically at his hair, like this might make it go _faster_ , somehow. 

It's worth every single agonizing second when she comes and she is, for a second, completely gone.

"I trust that was satisfactory?" He looks up, face shining and eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiles. Carol is overwhelmed by how endeared she is and can't quite speak. Stephen pushes himself up and kisses her. "I'd like to do more."

"I'd like you to do more," she says quietly, laying back to watch him reach for wherever he keeps the condoms. "Even the Sorcerer Supreme keeps 'em in the bedside table."

"Some things just have a place in life, Colonel."

"Oh man, it's getting serious."

"Is it?" He rolls the condom over his cock and lines himself up. Carol chews her bottom lip. "Because I'm fairly sure things got serious a few weeks ago."

"It was the mango," she murmurs, words fading into a gasp as he pushes himself into her, carefully, gently, like she won't heal or recover. "Stephen--"

"I understand you're the six million dollar woman and all." He presses his lips between her breats. "But I would like to take my time." 

Carol doesn't have words for that. All she can do is roll her hips, try to draw him forward. All she can do is make _noises_ , beg him with her fingers on his shoulders. He moves steadier against her, finding his rhythm and looking down at her, never breaking eye contact and saying the most ungodly beautiful things anyone's ever said to her in bed.

Now, she thinks, she understands the word _lover_. Because she is most certainly not getting fucked. There's no banging, screwing or whatever pithy word someone might toss at her.

He is making stupid, ridiculous, fancy-pants magician love to her and she is absolutely _adoring_ every minute of it. 

It'd be shameful if it didn't feel so fucking _good._

"I'm gonna come, I am, I'm gonna--" She does, with a whine high in her throat, keening against him and completely losing every ounce of humility she has left to scramble helplessly at his back with her nails. He's not far behind her and she can feel his rhythm falter and she's so _pleased_ with herself, with the two of them, that she can’t do anything but sink into the mattress and sigh appreciatively, because damn if that didn't feel good.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, kissing her shoulder. She curls against him, slipping her leg between his and finding the spots where the angles of their bodies meet perfectly and settling there. "Was that alright?"

"Eh."

"Liar."

"You want me to fill out a survey?"

"Oh, believe me, I know how much you enjoyed it."

Carol falls asleep with laughter on her lips, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and she wakes up feeling the same way, his hands in her hair and on her hip, anchoring her to him. 

One lonely ship moored to another.


End file.
